The Gods of Justice
by ThatDetectiveGuy
Summary: Veteran detective Makoto Niijima gets called out to a gruesome scene in Shinjuku. A simple botched robbery has left three people dead. But when Makoto discovers an old friend among the victims and uncovers clues of a political cover-up, it's up to her wits to relentlessly find out the truth, while questioning her wavering sense of justice.
1. Prologue: The Crossroads

The Shinjuku ward was deep into its neon blitz, with men with cheap suits and cigarettes soliciting services for their host and hostess clubs. If you look in the right places, you can find the usual strip clubs and blowjob bars. You can find prostitutes, knee-deep in debt, waiting for the right customer to come along. Usually the right ones are lonely business folks with money lining their pockets.

Shinjuku is the very dark heart of Tokyo, the world nobody discovers because they were busy looking the other way, stepping only into the world of food, anime, and culture. Nobody gave this heart its two-cents' worth; nobody expect the perverted underbelly of Japan.

The Crossroads Bar was empty, save for two souls. Eri Misaki was tending the place, drying off shot glasses, waiting for her late shift to end. Jazz music was playing in the background, and the overhead lights gave the establishment its usual dark purple aura.

"Misaki-san, another Wild Turkey!" Ichiko Ohya was already one foot over the edge of drunk, and having a Wild Turkey would take her over from tipsy to smashed in a matter of seconds.

"Ohya, I think you're done tonight. Besides, I gotta close out the bar." Her disdain was written on her face.

"Come on, just one more shot for the road, then I'll be out! Please?"

"I think your liver has one last shot to live."

Ohya turned away from her, pouting her lips. "Lala was a better bartender than you. And hey, I'm celebrating here! I've been working the real reporter beat! No more entertainment, but real juicy-"

A young brunette walked into the bar. She shifted her sights from the stools to the booths in the back and walked down to a seat at the end of the bar.

"Miss, I'm sorry but we're closing soon. I'm not taking any calls."

"Just a water, miss. Please?" She looked up to Misaki. Her eyes were dead, lifeless, as she stared at her. Fatigue and desperation were lined under her red eyes.

Misaki took a moment to consider. "Alright." She then searched for a clean glass before another patron walked in. He was wearing a baggy hoodie, and his eyes surveyed the purple haze of a bar. He then pulled up his hood, covered his face with a black bandana, and pulled out a Glock 19.

"Don't move," he shouted. "No noise and moves, or the bartender gets it."

Everyone was stunned. The girl at the end of the bar was silent and shocked by fear, and Ohya, despite her drunkenness, knew better when there was a gun pointed at someone's head.

Misaki stood still and complied with the robber's demands. He wanted the cash received from the day and night shift - all of it in full. Misaki soon pulled out the tray of the register, began to stuff it into a plastic bag. She needed to buy time and get her mugger distracted in order to reach under the counter and grab her .45 semiautomatic.

Once she gave the bag to the robber, the criminal soon walked over to Ohya and held her by gunpoint.

"Now, I'm going to go through the back with her. Any cops come after me, the woman bites it, you hear me," he shouted at the bartender. He dragged her through the bar, Ohya unsuccessfully trying to shake him off. The young brunette sat on her stool, trying to stay out of this situation. She held her hands to her ears, shielding herself from the quiet chaos around her.

"Hey, what are you doing? You calling the police," he said, enraged. He reached out to pull her arms out, only to find nothing in her hands.

Misaki took the risk. She reached under the counted and pulled out her gun. She took a crack shot at the gunman. It missed, almost grazing his head. She rapidly fired a second shot, this time nicking his hostage by the arm. The third shot never came; the gun jammed on her.

The robber threw Ohya down hard on one of the stools, and drew his aim at Misaki. He fired two shots to her chest, sending her down to the ground. After that, silence took over the bar, even though the jazz music was still running. The robber looked at the two women - Ohya bleeding from her nose and the young woman staring at him, paralyzed by fear, tears running down her cheek.

"Please, don't," she begged.

He drew his weapon on them and fired point-blank.


	2. 1

Makoto arrived at her apartment by 9:30 p.m. She was dead tired after writing up her arrest report on her previous case - a homicide down at Shibuya. It took everything out of her, tracking down leads and getting updates from the forensic labs, but it paid off in the end. Her suspect put up a fight when Makoto and her partner Minato Akai came to arrest him. He pulled out a switchblade on both of them, almost slashing out one of Makoto's red eyes. But her aikido was enough to put the crook down on his face hard before Akai placed the cuffs on him.

She didn't care about taking a relaxing bath or a warm dinner. She needed to sleep. During the case, she was driven by her strong will and cups of black coffee. Now she wanted shut-eye in her own bed in an instant, even if it means stripping down to her undies, coming under the covers, and sleeping in the next day.

That is until Akira Kurusu noticed her.

He was reading a book in bed when he saw her stripping off her blouse, leaving her blue bra exposed. Akira read the look on Makoto's face - eye bags forming, greasy hair, and a frown that spelled out "Please no sass".

"Tired," he asked her. She shut her eyes, yet nodded in response.

"Hmph." He pulled out her side of the covers and patted the mattress loudly. He was sure his Queen would get the message. Makoto continued to strip off her clothing, going for her slacks last. She climbed into the covers, lying face first into her pillows. Akira came up to her side and held her close. He gently rubbed her arms and kissed the top of her head, stroking her brown hair seductively.

"You smell like coffee. That's not helping. Makes me think I'm back at work," she said.

"That's harsh."

"Shut up," she said through the pillow. Turning her face to him, Makoto smiled faintly and flicked at his temple.

"That's harassment, detective."

She continued to flicked at him.

"I'm off-duty, and you're my husband. I can do this to you whenever I want to. And you asked for it." She flicked once more, this time going for Akira's locks of black, messy hair.

" Then I'm calling this self-defense then." He suddenly kissed her neck, reached under the covers and cupped Makoto's breast. His kisses were Cupid's arrows laced with lust and ecstasy. Makoto wanted to sleep. That was all she wanted in the first place. But now, she wanted _him_ more. She loved that side of him, the side where he knew which one of her buttons to press. She knew she wouldn't regret loving him.

They spent a romantic evening with each other. They moved in rhythm. They sighed and moaned out of pleasure. They held on, looked each other in the eye, relishing each and every moment of bliss as the night went on. They finally slept deeply in each other's arms, having their needs fulfilled. That is, until the next night. And they were looking forward to it.

* * *

Makoto dreamed that she was in her sister's apartment. Sae, Akira, and she were eating Sojiro's famous curry on the dinner room table. She stared at her sister and husband, making small talk about work - criminal defense cases mixed in with Leblanc stories of coffee and curry. And in that moment, Makoto felt happiness out of it, from the peace of it all. It reminded her when she and Sae were younger, when their mom and dad were alive. Their dad asked them about friends and school, and the sisters would ask him about any exciting arrests he made, with mom looking over smiling at her family at the table. Makoto felt that familial feeling when she saw Sae and Akira talking, as if time healed the wounds left when mom and dad were gone like the passing trains of the Tokyo metro.

She was happy that Sae revived her sense of justice, after stealing her Treasure. She was glad that Akira helped her remember her own justice, one that was once buried under vain promises of success. She was elated, she loved the fact that she fought for what's right. Not for fame and money, but for what was right.

She heard a gruff voice call behind her. The sound of conversation became muted, and time slowed into a tense scene from a John Woo movie. As she turned around, Makoto saw an endless void coming from the corner, and from that void, a silhouette with glowing, red eyes that stared from the darkness.

"Makoto," he whispered. He reached out to her. He touched her cheek. She felt tears forming from her eyes, and her heart filled up with regret, loss, and sadness. The shadow moved in closer to the light, ready to reveal its face in the lost light. Before then . . .

* * *

The ringing phone brought her back to reality. She opened her eyes, half startled from the dream. Makoto looked to her side and saw Akira sleeping peacefully next to her. She breathed a sigh of relief and reached for her phone from her nightstand. The digital clock next to her phone read 12:39 a.m. She got her phone and held its screen to her face to check the ID. It was Akai.

"Minato, what's up," she asked her partner.

"Sorry to wake you, boss, but we got a hot one."

"Really?" She was already annoyed by the thought of being called to a crime scene, especially after finishing up her last case. "Ugh, what have we got?"

"Botched bar robbery down by Shinjuku. The Crossroads Bar. This one's a doozy."

"Shit," she moaned. She turned towards Akira, feeling regret as to leave him so soon. "Alright, I'm coming. I'm gonna need some coffee."

"You're in luck. Inspector Bryant brought a fresh batch of grounds from LeBlanc yesterday. Consider it my peace offering, Makoto."

Makoto got up from her bed and fetched new clothes from her drawers. She put on a white blouse and blue slacks. Once she got everything, she went to the bathroom, adjacent to the bedroom, to splash water on her face. When she came back to her bed, she looked down to Akira and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

"New case?" Akira stirred, yet he kept his eyes shut.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, honey. But I'll be back soon, I promise." She gave him another kiss, on the lips. Her Joker smiled at her.

"I know, Queen."

The smile jolted her tired body to action. She was now ready, prepared for another case. She smiled back at Akira before grabbing her blue trench coat and motorcycle keys, and headed out the door.


	3. 2

The Crossroads Bar was cut off by police tape, with officers patrolling the perimeter, trying to hold off pedestrians and the media, all to keep the scene intact. Outside the perimeter, people were packed in like sardines. Makoto hurried to find a close spot to park her motorcycle. She took off her helmet and fixed her short bob, all the while looking at the growing crowd circling the crime scene. As she made her way through the crowd, she fumbled through her coat pocket for her badge, but she bumped into a sleazy-dressed, longhaired host in the process.

The host reeked sake in his breath. "Well, hello beautiful," he said, trying hard, but not hard enough. "You a reporter girl?"

"No, but I have to get to that crime scene" she said politely. She gritted her teeth while trying to hold back the impulse of stepping on his foot.

"Well," he continued. "How about we get together at one of the bars and have a drink."

"No, thank you. And I think you had enough to drink, sir."

The host wrapped his arm around Makoto, trying to cop a feel of her breast in the process. "Come on, baby. Let's have a nice night."

"Watch it, or I'll arrest you for sexual assault on an officer," Makoto threatened as she managed to pull out her badge in front of him. He squinted his eyes at it, then realized what deep shit he was in.

"Shit," he uttered, and then he drunkenly fled through the onlookers.

Makoto finally made his way to the crime scene tape. She flashed her badge at him at one officer, notifying him of her rank, and thus letting her through the perimeter. She then logged in, once she found the login sheet from another officer - a formality in procedural record keeping, a chore that needed to be done.

She found Minato Akai by the entrance of the Crossroads. He was surveying the crime scene technicians dusting the front door for prints. She came up behind him and greeted him.

"Boss," he responded. From the look of him, his dark hair was clean, but disheveled. Bags were forming under his brown eyes. Makoto could tell that he's been working overtime. He was born to be a closer – a person who works a case until passing out.

"Akai, you look well," she said back at him.

"Har har, Makoto." He smirked at her before continuing. "Sorry to get you out of bed this night, Boss. This one's a doozy."

"I heard. Botched robbery, right? What have we got, Akai?"

Akai turned his head from her and pointed at the door. "Three dead, bartender included."

"So, late-night patrons?"

"Seems that way, when you get the witness statements." Makoto started to walk towards the entrance, but soon realized that her body was feeling fatigued after being called up in the dead of night. She needed coffee to function; she can't get a clear picture of the crime without the needed focus to clear this new case.

"Before we head in, I need coffee. You said Inspector Bryant has got a fresh batch from Leblanc?"

"You bet. Wait here." Makoto's eyes followed him to a nearby bookstore that the police had commandeered as a command post. She then shifted her gaze to the neon sign over the entrance of the bar. Makoto once thought about the reason the Crossroads Bar got its name. She figured it was due to Lala and the sexual environment of the Shinjuku ward, for obvious reasons. As she reminisced her memories from her time back at Shujin Academy, she remembered that one memory. It was after she slapped her friend Eiko Takao in the face, trying to wake her up to reality and to get her out of debt of a no-good boyfriend. She and Akira ended up at the Crossroads to talk it out. She lamented that she would probably fail a test on love. That was until Akira confessed his feelings for the Student Council President. She was skeptical at first, but that feeling was gone when Akira said, "I do."

Five years later, Akira said those words again when the two said their vows for each other before spending the rest of their lives together, in a venue on a serene coast of a river near the town of Inaba.

Makoto relived the feeling of passion and love as she looked over the bar. Never did the thought of coming back again to investigate a murder ever cross her mind. With that in mind, the whole place seemed haunted, tainted by cruelty.

When Akai came back with the coffee, Makoto took it upon herself to take a scalding gulp.

"Alright then," she said to her partner. "Let's glove up and see what we've got."

The bar was half-packed with photographers and crime scene techs going over every detail of the place for any evidence, no matter how small it was. Akai led her partner to the bar counter, pointing over the countertop to the first victim who laid spread out, face first. Makoto would call the pose angelic, if not for the pool of coagulated blood and lifeless eyes.

"Victim's name is Eri Misaki. That's what the coroner's men discovered when they turned over her pockets and found her wallet."

"The owner," Makoto interjected.

"Seems that way." Akai then pointed to the gun that rested next to Misaki's right side. "From the looks of it, she had that .45 hidden under the counter, and must have tried to take our guy down. CSI found the holster.

Makoto peered into Misaki's lifeless eyes, dazed and blank. "Damn way to go," she said.

"At least she went down fighting. Kind of reminds me of you, Boss."

She turned to look at Akai, amused. "I'm not the backing-down type."

He nodded. "Right you are. You always catch your man, and in a neat little package for the prosecution too."

"Well you can say that about yourself. We're the same, only that I'm married and you're still young, single, and addicted to work."

"Har har, Queen," he replied before sticking out his tongue.

Makoto finished her inspection of Misaki, and found nothing else of interest. She moved on to the next victim, the one wearing a dark T-shirt, leaning down next to the stools. As she crouched down, she noticed the gunshot wound to the side of her right temple.

"Point blank," she said. "She looks familiar?"

"Yeah, she's a reporter." Akai pulled out a small notepad from his pocket and flipped through his notes. "ID is Ichiko Ohya. Writes for the Japan Times. Big name in that industry." Once Akai peered up to look at his partner, he noticed the look in her eye. It was loss, shock, peppered with some inner rage.

"Shit. I know her. Damnit," she muttered. Makoto turned away, gritting her teeth.

"Wait a minute, what do you mean you know her?"

"Back in high school, we've crossed paths a couple times during that whole craze with the Phantom Thieves a while back."

"Oh," Akai said somberly. "I'm sorry." He looked down at Ohya, feeling forlorn at the feeling of losing someone close. He firmly placed a hand on Makoto's shoulder. "Were you two close?"

"Not at all. We just talked about any rumors about the Phantom Thieves at our high school. I was class president back at Shujin Academy, so she milked me for any news."

"I see." Akai looked out to the rest of the crime scene, and knew that now's not the time for mourning for a distant friend. Not now.

"You gonna be alright, Makoto?"

She took a deep breath and reassured him. "I'll be fine. The case's not gonna solve itself." She tucked down on her outfit and rubbed her face. "Anything else?"

"Next victim, at the end of the bar, and the escape route."

"Escape route. Last time I was here back in the day, there wasn't one."

Akai pointed over to the half-opened door, with techs dusting the frames for any prints. "Yeah, it seemed there were some renovations since then. I mean, look at this place. If this bar caught fire, and the front entrance was a no-go, then what now?"

Makoto nodded in agreement, before the two of them walked towards the final victim. "And our last victim?" She looked down at the corpse. The victim was slumped against the bar counter, her face covered by blood-matted black hair. Yet Makoto felt another hit of familiarity, as if Ohya's murder wasn't enough to relive old memories. This hit came closer to her heart, the intuition in her telling every fiber of her being to pull back. The shot of adrenaline came automatically without any reason, other than that old familiar feeling.

"Our last victim here," Akai answered, "is one Eiko Takao."

"What," Makoto could only stutter out. All around her, her hearing dulled, her vision got hazy, and her head reeled in disorientation. The sudden impact came full force as it pierced through her heart, ripping out any sense of comfort at that moment.

"Boss, what's wrong?" Akai sounded muted, while Makoto brushed off the bloodied hair from the girl's face.

Her mind shouted denials, rejections, that this girl simply took Eiko's ID from somewhere. But the dried blood and the entrance wound to the right temple didn't do shit to make her unidentifiable. Makoto registered her as Eiko Takao. Makoto stood still as looked down in silent horror at the friend she saved from the past, now shot down like a dog. And all that Makoto felt was the same feeling when her father was killed in the line of duty.

The feeling of her soul being ripped apart.


End file.
